


Lead Me Home

by Lila82



Category: Nashville - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lila82/pseuds/Lila82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Juliette falls from grace, the most unlikely saviors put her back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> January can’t come soon enough. Feedback is greatly appreciated, as this is my first time writing for this fandom and I’m worried that Juliette is OoC. Title courtesy of FM Radio. Enjoy.

 

* * *

 

**I. Deacon**

Juliette spends the first night in Deacon’s bed, wrapped in an old t-shirt that falls all the way to her knees.

He’s waiting for her when the car pulls up, engine running and headlights pointed at the front door of her house that’s never been much of a home.

He holds her as she tumbles out of the backseat, his flannel shirt catching her tears the way he catches her. 

“Shhh,” he croons into her hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

It’s not going to be okay, not any of it, but she still lets Deacon feed her lies, his hands working small circles across her lower back. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get you home.”

He doesn’t guide her into the house, past her team awkwardly gathered on her front steps. Instead, he tucks her into the passenger seat of his truck and buckles her seatbelt tight. She leans back and rests her head against the leather, breathes in deep. It’s getting hard to remember a time when Deacon wasn’t there for her.

He’s quiet on the ride home, quiet until they’re sitting on his couch with matching mugs of tea in hand. It’s hot, scalding even, but Juliette appreciates the burn. All night, the only thing she’s felt is numb. She needs the reminder that this is real, that she’s Juliette Barnes and life will always be a mess of her own making. 

“It will get better,” Deacon tells her, takes a sip of his tea. “After Vince died…” He trails off, glances at the Gibson resting against his couch. She watches him flex his left hand, watches the way his fingers don’t fall quite straight against the long length of his thigh. “After everything…I’m still here,” he tells her. “This too shall pass.”

Juliette makes the mistake of looking at him, at the understanding lurking in his eyes, and fresh tears well in hers. She shakes her head, sets down her tea so she can rest her head in her hands. “This isn’t about Charlie Wentworth,” she confesses. “I wish it was – I know how to handle him – but it’s not.” She leans back against the sofa, closes her eyes to block out the memory, Scarlett in nothing but that gray shirt. “I gave someone my heart, but he’d already given his to someone else.”

Deacon sighs, the echo of Rayna filling every nook and cranny of the room. “Yeah,” he says. “I know how that goes.”

Juliette curls into his side, rests her head on his shoulder. “So tell me, does that get better?”

Deacon laughs, a soft rumble without much humor. Juliette recognizes that laugh; it’s the one she gives the cameras. “Still here, right?” 

Juliette can’t laugh, the ache of rejection weighing on her chest, so she holds on tight. She knows something about surviving.

 

* * *

 

**II. Megan**

There’s a woman in Deacon’s kitchen when Juliette wakes the next morning. She has dark hair and wears jogging clothes and she’s curled up on a stool, bent over a crossword puzzle. 

She glances up as Juliette’s bare feet pad over the creaking floorboards, a pen clenched between her teeth.

“Hi,” she says, spits out the pen and looks Juliette up and down. 

Juliette is about to fix her with a glare when she realizes what’s happening: bare legs, mussed hair, a pretty young girl creeping out of Deacon’s bed. 

“It’s not what you think,” she says. “Deacon let me sleep over and Scarlett’s staying in the guest room and…” She trails off and stares at the floor. She already broke up one marriage this month; she won’t destroy a relationship that actually seems to be working. 

“I know,” the woman says and gestures towards the couch, where a pile of blankets and pillows are neatly stacked. “Deacon just ran out for a PT session.” She pushes aside the puzzle and offers Juliette a bright smile. It seems genuine and Juliette wonders if she’s still asleep. “There’s coffee if you’re interested.” 

Juliette forces a smile, the one she wears for the press, and pours a cup. “You were with Deacon at the polo match. I don’t think I caught your name. I’m Juliette.” 

She extends a hand and the woman takes it without hesitation. “Megan. It's nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.” Juliette raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t have enough caffeine in her system to keep up the pleasantries. Megan laughs. “Seriously. I had “Undermine” on repeat for weeks.”

It’s Juliette’s turn to smile now that they’re on common ground. “I wrote that song with Deacon,” she says as she slides onto an empty stool. “First song we wrote together.”

Megan nods. “I like the message. Doing the right thing is always the harder choice.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not doing me much good,” Juliette points out. “People are assholes.”

Megan grins, a pretty smile that lights up her whole face. “I knew I’d like you.” 

Juliette takes a sip of coffee,, not sure how to respond. Emily was always on her side, but she also signed her paychecks. This is unfamiliar territory. 

“I’ve got it!” Megan exclaims, breaks the increasingly awkward silence. “Let’s take a girl’s day. I’ll call in sick and we can hit up Green Hills, get mani/pedis, give my credit card a workout…” She trails off when Juliette doesn’t respond. “Or we can finish our coffee, go our separate ways.”

“I have a better idea,” Juliette interjects, jumps off her stool to grab her cell from her purse. Two calls and an hour later, and she and Megan are reclining in lounge chairs, wearing mud masks while a team of beauticians gets to work.

“Not that I’m complaining, but this isn’t what I meant when I offered to treat you to a girls’ day,” Megan says, sighs when her pedicurist works out a kink in the arch of her foot. 

“There aren’t any cameras here.” 

“Ah, right...your life kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

Instinct tells Juliette to push back with a nasty comment, but when she looks over, there’s laughter dancing in Megan’s eyes. It’s a coping mechanism, the kind that reminds her of Dante and Jolene, makes something tight and cold spread through her chest.

Still, she can’t find an ulterior motive in Megan’s behavior, just a misguided attempt to help, so she tries to match her humor. “You put up with Deacon. That’s its own brand of misery.”

Megan laughs again and then Juliette is laughing too, laughing so hard that the manicurist has to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“This is nice,” Megan says, closes her eyes and lets the facialist slide cucumber slices over her lids. 

“Yeah,” Juliette agrees. “It really is.” She leans back, feels the cool damp of the green tea bags pressing on her closed eyes. Something cracks, and it’s not the mud caked over her face. She reaches over, and nails be damned, rests her hand on Megan’s wrist. “Thank you,” she says. “For spending today with me.”

Megan doesn’t open her eyes, but her smile is bright and true.

When Juliette smiles in return, it’s one she never wears for the press.

 

* * *

 

**III. The Wyatt Women**

On the second morning, Juliette slips quietly into Deacon’s house, sweaty and breathing hard from her run, and sees the news of Peggy Kenter’s death scrolling across the flat screen. Deacon’s on the phone, his voice soothing and calm, like that first night when he held her close and wrapped her up in his love.

“Everything okay?” she asks, tugs out her earbuds and wipes her forehead with the hem of her t-shirt.

Deacon holds up a hand and turns away, sighs heavily as he presses the phone closer to his ear. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll call you later.”

He looks older as he slides the phone into his pocket, his eyes hooded and sad. “Maddie,” he says. “Peggy’s death is hitting her hard.”

“Poor kid,” Juliette says, opens a bottle of water and takes a long sip. 

Deacon nods. “I don’t know how to help her.”

Juliette remembers the past year with Jolene, that it didn’t matter how much or how little Deacon made a difference. It meant everything just to know he was there. “You’re there for her,” she tells him. “That’s all you can do.”

Deacon bites his lip, face falling, and Juliette doesn’t know which of them is more surprised when the words slip out of her mouth. Her hands shake as she tries screw on the cap to her water bottle. Getting dressed means going outside, going outside means the press and the rumors and the heartbreak and reality, but going outside is the right thing to do. “Give me ten minutes.”

Thirty minutes later she’s wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, her wet hair pulled back in a damp braid as they show their IDs to the security team guarding Rayna’s driveway.

Deacon looks nervous as he cuts the engine. “You sure you want to do this?”

Juliette pastes on her best smile, the one she wears for the press, and rests her hand on his. “I need a distraction. Maddie needs cheering up.”

He takes a deep breath and opens his door, taps his foot as Juliette rings Rayna’s doorbell. Daphne answers, followed closely by her sister, and both girls light up when they discover Juliette Barnes on their doorstep. 

Maddie launches herself at Deacon, but Daphne wraps thin arms around Juliette’s waist and won’t stop squealing. Juliette understands fans, every kind of fan, but something still tugs hard in her chest at the little girl staring up at her with adoring eyes. 

Deacon pulls away when Rayna and Tandy appear and presses a soft kiss to Maddie’s forehead. “I’ll call you later,” he tells his daughter and waves goodbye as he heads to his truck. 

Rayna just shakes her head and mumbles something about payback, but Maddie links their arms. “I’m so happy that you’re here,” she says. 

Juliette nods, lets Maddie lead her into the living room, blinks away the tears. There’s more meaning in Maddie’s words than she could possibly know.

-

They spend the afternoon watching movies, “Love Actually” and “Pride and Prejudice,” and drinking hot chocolate. Juliette ignores the empty calories, focuses on Daphne’s warm weight pressed into her side. 

She remembers being ten, remembers the endless nights and empty days; she remembers wondering if she’d ever see her mama again. Her stepmother is dead, but Daphne is wrapped up in this sisterhood of love.

Juliette tugs the little girl closer, breathes in the strawberry scent of her shampoo.

She’s so honored to have been included. 

-

Juliette is brushing her teeth in the guest bath when Maddie makes an appearance, looking impossibly young in her glasses and oversized pajamas. 

Juliette glances down at her camisole and skimpy shorts, playing the part even in sleep. She smiles through the toothpaste, spits and rinses, wipes her mouth on a towel and Maddie’s still there.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Juliette asks, even though Maddie’s barely ten years younger, even though she knows nothing of mothering. She can do this much to help this girl for all the times no one helped her.

Maddie bites her lip, just like her daddy, and Juliette can’t believe Deacon never wondered all those years. “Can I play something for you?”

It’s been a long day and Juliette’s exhausted, but she sees the hope in Maddie’s eyes, knows she wore the same expression every time her mama made another empty promise. “Sure,” she agrees, pads into Maddie’s room and sits beside her on the bed. “What do you have in mind?”

Maddie picks up her guitar, strums a soft note. “It’s a song that Deacon wrote.” 

Juliette smiles, “Undermine” and “Consider Me” flitting through her mind. “Those are the best kind.”

Maddie smiles back, a bit more confidence creeping into her expression, and she starts to sing, the guitar quietly keeping up. 

_Sittin’ here tonight_  
 _By the fire light_  
 _It reminds me I already have more than I should_

Her voice gains strength, pure and true and even richer than Rayna’s in its heyday. There’s a lot of talent in this one little girl, but Juliette doesn’t want to knock her down. She wants to see her soar.

She lies back against Maddie’s pillows, loses herself in the song. 

_Sometimes I’m hard on me.  
When dreams don’t come easy_

She only knows the kinds of dreams that don’t come true. Something hard and tight tugs in her chest. All she sees are Avery’s eyes when he broke her heart.

Maddie’s hands still on the guitar. “What do you think?” 

Juliette pauses, the final words ringing in her head.

 _Lord I pray, I have a life that’s good_

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…for all her fancy things, her life has never amounted to much. She opens her eyes and Maddie’s watching her, eager and hungry for praise. Just because she never had it herself doesn’t mean she can’t give it to someone else. “I think you’re wonderful,” she says and Maddie whoops, throws her arms around Juliette.

When she pulls back her smile is bright and wide and true. Juliette thinks she could get used to someone looking at her like that.

-

Later, Maddie cuts to the bone. It’s 2:00 am and they’re practicing their craft: Maddie’s better at guitar, but Juliette has more experience with lyrics. Their song is coming along just fine. 

It’s about love and loss, hope and despair, all the things country songs do best. They have two verses and a chorus, but the bridge is the sticking point. Juliette remembers writing “Wrong Song” with Rayna; they’ll get it right if they keep trying.

“Did you do it?” Maddie asks suddenly, sets down her guitar so she can draw her knees to her chest.

Juliette puts away the pen and notepad, cocks an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“Have an affair with that man.” Maddie’s eyes go wide. It’s one thing to wonder, but she’s put her questions into words, said them out loud. Juliette knows too well that she can’t take them back.

The question feels like a slap and Juliette springs into action, a snappy comment perched on the tip of her tongue. But Maddie’s watching her with blue eyes that crinkle at the corner just like Deacon’s. She doesn’t lie to him; she can’t lie to his daughter either.

“Yes. It’s true.” Something heavy and ugly lifts from her chest, its weight released by the simple act of telling the truth. 

Maddie’s eyes widen even more and she wraps her arms around her knees. “Why did you do it?”

“I…” Juliette starts but quickly trails off. How does she explain to a thirteen-year-old why she had sex with another woman’s husband? “Because I could,” she finally says and really, it’s the closest thing to the truth. Charlie was there and he wanted her and she wanted to be wanted. 

Maddie nods, ducks her head. “Okay.”

Again, Juliette feels a bit like she’s been slapped. Her second confession, and still no righteous indignation. “That’s it?”

Maddie’s eyes well with tears as she raises her head. “My mom did the same thing. She kept me from Deacon because she could.” Her hands ball into fists and her eyes flare.

“Oh, honey,” Juliette says and clasps Maddie’s hands in her own. “It’s not the same.”

“But my mom – ” 

Juliette shakes her head, hears Avery’s words echoing in her ears. “I did a bad thing, but it doesn’t make me a bad person. Your mom made a choice, a choice she felt was right at the time.” She sees Jolene’s dead eyes, the lank fall of her hair, the mother she lost before she was ever really hers. “She’s your mama. You gotta take her mistakes and all.”

Maddie nods and Juliette thinks she understands, but then her shoulders shake and the tears slide down her cheeks and it’s Juliette gathering Maddie in her arms, crooning into her hair, “Shhh, shhh…it’s gonna be okay.”

Maddie holds on tight and Juliette doesn’t let go. She knows something about lost little girls.

-

Despite the late night, Juliette wakes up early and sneaks into the kitchen. Breakfast seems like an appropriate thank you for showing up unexpected at Rayna’s house.

She’s just mixing the pancakes when Rayna walks in wearing a boxy black dress but spiked-heel Louboutins. “Mornin’,” Rayna says, opens a cabinet and pulls out a mug to pour the coffee that Juliette brewed. “Making pancakes?”

Juliette smiles tightly. “It’s the least I can do.” 

Rayna nods absently and sits down at the island, checks her email while Juliette cooks. Juliette feels tension build along the base of her neck. She hasn’t done anything wrong, but Rayna always manages to make her feel small. 

“I wanted to thank you,” Rayna says and sets aside the phone. Her eyes are bright and clear, and she looks like she means the words that she’s saying. “The girls…they really needed this.”

Juliette shrugs, stirs the pancakes, adds a pinch of cinnamon the way her mama always did. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Thanks,” Rayna says and smiles tightly, abandons the kitchen to retrieve the paper from the driveway. She starts with the front page, but Juliette can’t ignore the “Lifestyle” section at Rayna’s elbow, or her own face staring up into Charlie Wentworth’s eyes. That tight, ugly feeling sets in her chest and she takes a deep breath, tries to slow the frantic beat of her heart. 

She makes the mistake of looking at Rayna and Juliette wants to smack her for the pity in her eyes. “You should know, it was a brave thing that you did.”

Juliette shrugs again and starts spooning batter onto the griddle. “It’s no one’s business but my own.”

Rayna laughs, history catching in her voice. “You learned that lesson well before me. You got grit, girl.” 

When Juliette meets Rayna’s eyes, there’s only admiration staring back.

Rayna returns to the paper, Juliette flips the pancakes. Still, she stands a little bit taller.

 

* * *

 

**IV. Deacon, Again**

Juliette sings at the Bluebird after Belle Meade buries the mayor’s wife. 

It’s the first time she’s been in public since that night and Deacon practically has to shove her out of the truck.

“I can’t,” she hisses, holds tightly to her door. 

Deacon slams his loudly and storms to the passenger side, boots thumping loudly on the asphalt. “If you don’t face them now, you never will.” He pries her fingers off the frame, drags her limb by limb through the doorway. “No one here cares about your sex life.”

Juliette takes a quick scan of the room, because it’s not Charlie Wentworth weighing on her mind. The Bluebird is at full staff tonight, but Avery isn’t one of them. Scarlett’s back from the tour and didn’t make an appearance the entire time she camped out at Deacon’s. Her chest feels tight and she thinks she might throw up. She chugs ginger ale at the bar, watches Deacon mingle with the crowd. They’re his people, friends and rivals, but a world he’s created for himself. 

“It’s time,” Deacon says, sidles up to her. 

Juliette tenses. She doesn’t know these people, can’t imagine letting them in. “I need a minute.”

Deacon reaches down, cups her face in his hands. “You can do this. You’re Juliette Barnes. If you can’t play here, you can kiss your tour dreams goodbye.”

She knows he’s right. Picking up the pieces is like riding a bike. She just has to hop on board. “Okay,” she agrees, dusts a non-existent piece of lint from her jacket. “I’m ready.”

There’s a full band playing tonight, but she shoos them away, borrows Deacon’s guitar as she settles on the stool and waits for the cheers to die down. The tight fist in her chest eases as she realizes that Deacon’s right. This crowd – it’s only the music that matters. 

“Hi, ya’ll,” Juliette smiles, tugs down the mike so it’s at the right height. “Thank you for letting me play. It’s no secret that this has been a rough week and I didn’t want to come tonight. But see, I have this friend, this maddening friend, and he told me that here, it doesn’t matter who I am or what I’ve done. All that matters is the music in my heart.”

Across the room Deacon raises his club soda in her direction and the cheers start up again. Juliette can’t help but smile behind the bright lights. Fat checks are always a bonus, but this feels even better. 

Juliette picks up the guitar and strums a quick chord, finds her nerve before letting the words ring out. 

_There is no good reason I should have to be so alone_  
 _I’m smothered by this emptiness_  
 _Lord, I wish I was made of stone_

She lets the music tell her story, shows these strangers how her heart broke when Avery let her walk out of his life. 

There are tears glistening on her cheeks when the song draws to a close and a hush gathers through the room. She feels stripped and raw but then the applause starts, Deacon’s shrill whistle loudest of all, and some of the ache eases away.

She looks out into this room full of strangers and doesn’t feel so alone.

 

* * *

 

 **V. Scarlett**

Scarlett makes an appearance on day five. Juliette is sitting on Deacon’s couch watching Maddie’s guitar lesson when she blows through the door looking like she got dressed in the dark. She stares at them with wide eyes and tugs on her ragged braid. Juliette wants to rip her face off.

Deacon rises to give his niece a hug, but Maddie throws her a casual hello and turns back to the guitar. Smug satisfaction fills Juliette’s chest; Scarlett can’t beat her at everything.

“How ya doing, Maddie?” Scarlett asks, careful to keep her eyes fixed anywhere but on Juliette.

“Okay,” Maddie says and strums an uneven chord. “It’s weird that Peggy isn’t coming back.” She turns to Juliette. “It’s been so nice having Juliette around.”

Scarlett’s lip wobbles and Juliette again feels the urge to smack the simpering look off her face. “Mind if I talk to her for a minute?”

Deacon’s eyes flick from his niece to his friend and back again and his jaw tightens. “I’m going to kill that kid one day.” Scarlett rests a hand on his arm. “Uncle Deacon, please.”

He lets out a long sigh and gestures to Maddie. “Hey, kiddo. How about you and me take a break?”

Maddie’s reluctant, but she puts down the guitar and follows Deacon into the kitchen for tea and talk. 

The room crackles with tension but Juliette won’t be the first to break. She’s not sure what she’ll say if she does. 

“Avery and I broke up,” Scarlett finally says, stares at her fingers as they twist into the hem of her patchwork skirt. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” she continues, before Juliette can fully process what she’s said. “I know you’re not. But I still thought that you should know.” Scarlett meets her gaze, all angry blue fire, and Juliette feels a bit of kinship tug at her chest. It’s time Scarlett understood what it means to come in second place. 

Juliette could say something cutting in return, but she’s tired of lies. “Nothing happened,” she tells Scarlett. “He was always true to you.” She sees him having her back, but holding her at a distance. She realizes it was Scarlett caught between them.

“I know,” Scarlett says. “Avery isn’t perfect, but he’s never lied to me. Besides…after you left, the look on his face said it all.”

Juliette remembers the tears and the panic, but she mostly sees it through the haze of regret. She laid herself open and he chose someone else. “It’s not like that.”

“But it could be. Wherever his heart is, it’s not just with me.” Scarlett stands, smoothes down her skirt. “I need more.”

Juliette rises too, hands hanging awkwardly at her sides. She holds back while Scarlett says goodbye to Deacon and Maddie, tries to calm the emotions dueling for control in her chest. 

There’s the urge to hug Scarlett and also the desire to do a victory dance, but mostly relief. Scarlett made the same choice and she’s still breathing. 

She knows she was right to end things with Charlie. She understands that she shouldn’t give in unless it’s right.

 

* * *

 

**VI. Avery**

Juliette stages a residency at the Bluebird. She doesn’t hog the stage, but she performs a song or two most nights.

She loves the heat of the lights and the roar of the crowd and the peace in her heart when she steps off the stage. She ignores her own catalogue, focuses on other people’s words. She’s not the first to feel this way; all she feels has been said before. 

_Do I want too much?_  
 _Am I going overboard to want that touch?_  
 _Shout it out to the night_  
 _Give me what I deserve ‘cause it’s my right_

Her fingers curl around the microphone and she closes her eyes, feels her voice rasp and break as the notes crest. There’s no guarantee that she’ll ever have these things, but she knows she’s ready. She knows she deserves them.

She strums the final chord and opens her eyes and Avery is there. 

She sets down the mike and smiles for the crowd, murmurs a thank you before heading towards the bar. Avery smiles as she approaches and a familiar warmth tightens in her chest. She already feels better.

“You were amazing,” he says, ducks his head while she keeps standing straight. She’s not afraid of this, not anymore. 

“Where have you been?” Almost a week has passed. She hates that he’s stayed away this long, hates that he hasn’t thrown himself at her feet.

He looks up to meet her eyes and his are watery and wide: scared. She recognizes that expression; she’s wearing the same one. “I needed some time to think.”

“And?” Her tone is harsh, but she deserves answers. She didn’t have to say the words for Avery to understand what she meant. 

He leans in and presses his mouth against hers, a butterfly kiss that lasts half a second and feels like forever. “I want to play something for you.”

She rests her hips against the bar while Avery sets up, crosses her arms over her chest to ease the aching tightness there. A kiss is just a kiss. She’s not sure she can take him letting her go again.

“Hi everyone,” Avery says and loud whistles fill the room; the staff are nothing if not supportive of each other. “I’ve been doing some thinking lately,” he continues, waves aside the jeers that follow. “The last year has been really crazy and I know that I’ve made a lot of mistakes. There were some things I wanted too much. Some things I didn’t want enough. But I learned some things, things about what really matters. Who really matters.” He looks right at Juliette. “This is for you.”

_There isn’t much that I feel I need_  
 _A solid soul and the blood I bleed_  
 _But with a little girl and by my spouse_  
 _I only want a proper house_

Juliette doesn’t recognize the song, but she understands the sentiment: it means saying I love you and really meaning it. It means Avery sees that in her. The tight ball in her chest clenches, makes it hard to breathe. She’s never been this girl. She doesn’t know the girl worth choosing.

“How was it?” he asks when the set winds down and another young hopeful takes the stage. Juliette turns her attention to him, ignores the possible competition whose voice fills the room.

His foot taps erratically while he waits for her answer, and she makes him wait the way he did for her. But then, when she can't take it anymore, when all she wants is to feel his lips against hers, she leans in and kisses him, presses against his chest and curls her fingers in his hair. “You were amazing,” she says against his mouth and he laughs, pulls her even closer. 

She doesn’t say the words but they’re there, caught between them, and he doesn’t walk away. The tight ball in her chest eases into something bright and giddy and warm. 

“You know,” he says. “This makes you my girl.”

From across the room, a camera snaps and a flash blinks through the semi-darkness. She knows she should call Glenn, confiscate the camera, pitch a diva fit, but she only leans against Avery’s chest, feels his solid weight at her back. She takes his hand in hers and squeezes tight. “Right now, that’s all I want to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> The following songs are featured in this fic:  
> 1). “Am I the Only One (Who’s Ever Felt this Way)?” – The Dixie Chicks  
> 2). “Passionate Kisses” – Mary Chapin Carpenter  
> 3). “My Girls” – Animal Collective 
> 
> * Maddie and Juliette sing “A Life that’s Good.” I don’t know the original artist.


End file.
